I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ – Phil 1:6

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Cheryl strayed

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more. ~ Lord Byron, Childe Harold’s pilgrimage

my latest indulgence in film and book have very similar themes: on travelling miles and miles on foot with the final result of finding oneself amidst the journey. both were awesome! Wild (2014) caught my attention already by its movie trailer. Reese Witherspoon. hiking. nature. a past to forget. What more could one ask for?

This was adapted from a biography by Cheryl Strayed entitled Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail. Cheryl had many issues in the past especially after her mother’s death (“my mother was the love of my life,” according to Cheryl.). It broke her and she got very sexually promiscuous despite already having a husband, got into heroin and other drugs and practically wrecked her own life. But going through it all, she had a nagging feeling (we catch glimpses of the Pacific Crest Trail brochure lying around stores) that by walking, she could get herself back.

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (by Rachel Joyce) took me around 5 days to finish, mainly because i had other activities and meet ups with my friends; but it was utterly engaging and I would have finished it within a day of two otherwise. Harold is such an endearing character. The story starts with his seemingly mundane post-retirement life, where one day he receives a letter from an old friend, Queenie Hennessey, who was diagnosed with terminal head and neck cancer, currently in a hospice in Berwick-upon-Tweed, which was up north, while he stayed at the far south of England in Kingsbridge. The author has kindly attached a map at the end of the book to faciliate readers like me who have no idea where is where in the UK!

By a mysterious twist of fate which started off as simply going out to mail his reply to Queenie via post, he decided to walk his way up to meet Queenie, and “I will keep walking and she will keep living”. But as the story goes on, one comes to realise that Queenie is probably not the one requiring saving; but Harold himself. Throughout the journey, Harold’s story, his relationship with his wife and sons, his regrets, mistakes and actions in the past that have haunted him slowly unravel, and he starts to come to terms with them.

I guess many other books carry similar themes; like Lord of the Rings and the 9 hour long journey to destroy the ring in the fires of Mordor (Samwise Gamgee: I can’t carry it (the ring) for you, but I can carry you!), the Alchemist…

I don’t hike as much as I would like to, mainly due to studies, but hiking has been greatly therapeutic and eye opening for me. Sunset Peak had the most stunning view I had ever seen in Hong Kong, while the hike in Bako National Park 2 years ago in Sarawak was refreshing though what we saw was mainly that of the tropical rainforest (at least it proved that I had at least some stamina despite having a super sedentary lifestyle since the beginning of med school). Hiking is like going on a pilgrimage of my own. It gives me time to think, reflect, explore, and enjoy the nature which God marvellously created. I don’t have that much issues as compared to Cheryl Strayed and Harold Fry, but I feel their stories resonating with mine as I see their past flash through their eyes. I still don’t really know what does it mean to “find myself” in the wild; but exploring new places always reminds me how big and wonderful the world is, and how small me and my problems are. am really itching to travel more but of course there are many limitations (monetary, parents’ insecurity, time…). oh well. in the mean time you can check out my secondary school classmate’s travel experiences here! she writes really well and her adventures are inspiring. 🙂

daily murmurs

Love

The love for equals is a human thing - of friend for friend, brother for brother. It is to love what is loving and lovely, the world smiles.

The love for the less fortunate is a beautiful thing - the love for those who suffer, for those who are poor, the sick, the failures, the unlovely. This is compassion, and it touches the heart of the world.

The love for the more fortunate is a rare thing - to love those who succeed where we fail, to rejoice without envy with those who rejoice, the love of the poor for the rich, of the black man for the white man. The world is always bewildered by its saints.

And then there is the love for the enemy - love for the one who does not love you but mocks, threatens, and inflicts pain. The tortured's love for the torturer. This is God's love. It conquers the world.

~ Frederick Buechner, The Magnificent Defeat

for those who wander

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,

From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin--his control
Stops with the shore;--upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man’s ravage, save his own,
When for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

His steps are not upon thy paths,--thy fields
Are not a spoil for him,--thou dost arise
And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields
For earth’s destruction thou dost all despise,
Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,
And send’st him, shivering in thy playful spray
And howling, to his gods, where haply lies
His petty hope in some near port or bay,
And dashest him again to earth: —there let him lay.
~ Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

Not till we are completely lost or turned around... do we begin to find ourselves.
~ Henry David Thoreau